


Oldies Station

by quartetship



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Adult Eddie Kaspbrak, Adult Richie Tozier, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22406902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: On a trip home to visit family, Richie Tozier runs into a childhood friend - and maybe something more. But is a single day really enough to change a life?
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 204





	Oldies Station

Richie isn't a huge fan of coming home. 

Stopping at a small gas station in the heart of Derry, he is sharply reminded of the many reasons why. 

There's nothing wrong with his hometown, necessarily, or his family for that matter. They just don't really feel like home anymore. At nearly forty, he has a life of his own and moderate success elsewhere. He has no real desire to rehash old memories with the people he grew up with. 

Save for maybe a few, granted, but he hardly sees any of them anymore. 

He runs into Beverly Marsh most times he's in town. He keeps her phone number and they keep in touch. It's nice - but it's not really what he wishes for. Still, he knows that his childhood friends have lives of their own, too, and none of them probably even think twice about-

“Richie?” he hears as he approaches the counter to pay for his gas. He braces for a run-in with some random person he went to school with who suddenly remembers being “best friends” with him simply because he has money and a Netflix deal, now. 

When Richie turns to find the source of the voice, though, that is definitely not what he encounters. 

“Richie Tozier?” a shorter, slender man asks. He wears his dark hair neatly combed and his crisp, button-down dress shirt turned up at the sleeves. Even if it weren't for his familiar grin and big, dark eyes, Richie would probably recognize him from the way he carries himself alone. 

“Eddie Kaspbrak?” he asks, just to be sure. Eddie smiles wider, moving toward him. “Eddie fuckin’ Spaghetti, how are you?!” Richie barks, laughing. He tries not to feel too gleeful when Eddie skips the polite handshake and moves straight for a hug - one that Richie gladly grants him. 

“What are you doing in Derry, Trashmouth?” Eddie asks, sounding a little flustered. Richie shrugs. 

“Family shit. You know how it is. You live around here?” 

“Nah,” Eddie shakes his head. “I'm in to take care of my mom's estate stuff.” 

Richie frowns. “Oh God, she died? I'm sorry, man.” 

Eddie waves it off. “Don't be. She passed last year. We weren't really close anymore. I'm just trying to wrap up some stuff with the house and all of that. I'll honestly be glad to have it over with.” 

Richie nods. “Yeah, well. That kinda shit still sucks. Sorry to hear it.” People begin to push around and past him and Eddie where they stand, some shooting them obvious looks of frustration. Richie pays for his gas and thanks the attendant, never fully taking his attention away from Eddie. 

“Listen, are you gonna be in town all day?” he asks, because why the hell not? Hanging out, one-on-one with your childhood crush who is still incredibly attractive - what could go wrong? 

Eddie nods without even considering the question. 

“If you're not busy we could get some lunch,” Richie suggests. “Wherever is good with you. Catch up for a bit, you know? It's been so damn long.” 

“It has,” Eddie agrees. He smiles and the corners of his eyes wrinkle adorably. Richie can't stop staring at him. “And lunch sounds great.” 

Richie barely remembers where to meet him, hit full-force with just how fucking cute his childhood friend still is - and how very screwed he probably is, going to lunch with him. 

When Eddie smiles at him from the driver's seat of his own car when he pulls up beside him, though, Richie's mind goes pleasantly blank. 

Just before he turns it off, his car radio punctuates the moment. 

_ Time after time… _

\--

Richie orders the most obnoxious burger on the menu. It's topped with onions and three kinds of cheese and some kind of sauce that looks like it will stain his clothes eternally if it drips on them. He's surprised when Eddie orders the same thing for himself. 

He is much less surprised when Eddie eats his with a knife and fork. 

“So, standup, huh?” Eddie asks, taking a tidy little bite of his food. “That's amazing, Richie. And so you.”

“Yeah, I guess I figured if I just kept telling the same ‘your mom’ joke long enough, someone would eventually pay me for it. Or pay me to shut up, at least.” 

“I'm surprised it wasn't the latter, honestly,” Eddie cracks, and Richie laughs so fucking  _ fondly _ he's sure it shows on his face. 

“So, what do you do, Eddie Spaghetti? Issue parking tickets? Run a DMV?” 

“Just Eddie, thanks. And I'm a risk analyst,” Eddie says, like Richie's supposed to know what that means. 

“Eddie, what the fuck is a risk analyst?” 

“It's basically - Well, I work at this big insurance company, and we--”

Richie cuts Eddie off by faking a grandiose snore, drawing the attention of several nearby diners. Eddie kicks him beneath the table and scowls. 

“Fuck you, dude. We can't all make money telling jokes.” 

“Thank God, or I'd be out of a job.” 

“God, you're insufferable,” Eddie sighs, returning to his food. “You haven't changed a bit.” 

Richie grins. “You either, Eddie my love.” 

Maybe it's just the change in tone or the way Richie's resurfacing crush makes him wishfully think, but Eddie seems to flush, seems to shift in his seat at that familiar old nickname. Richie smiles and takes a massive, sloppy bite of his burger. 

Above them, the restaurant speakers play a mix station of pop hits, old and new. 

_ There is always something there to remind me… _

“I remember this song,” Eddie says brightly. Richie nods. 

“Was everywhere when it came out.”

They continue this way, making small talk and remarking on the music around them, and Richie's mind wanders to a time when this scene would have been just another afternoon for the two of them. It's true, he thinks; here in Derry, there  _ is _ always something there to remind him - of a childhood shared with Eddie. 

“Earth to Richie,” Eddie says, grinning. Richie blinks himself back to the here and now. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Richie says, sheepish. “Let an old man reminisce.” 

“Must have been a good burger,” Eddie teases. 

Richie nods. “Yeah. Really good.” 

Eddie is standing, pushing his chair in neatly where he sat. He looks anxious, though he's still smiling. “Hey, uh. Listen - If you're not doing anything else, I was thinking we could just, I don't know. Drive around? Waste some time? If you want.”

Richie's grin is one he can't contain. “Drive around wasting time? Who are you and what have you done with Eddie?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Just figured it'd be nice to spend more time catching up.” 

“Oh hell yeah, I've definitely got nothing better going on,” Richie replies. Then, before Eddie can say anything else, “And I've always got time for you, Eds.” 

Eddie gives him a glare that Richie finds far too familiar - and far too endearing. Richie reaches out to ruffle his hair, an impulse that Eddie somehow knows to block before he gets the chance. God, they really used to know each other so well, Richie thinks fondly. 

They laugh their way out of the restaurant and Richie climbs into Eddie's car, only complaining once about how damned close he keeps the seats to the dash. 

“Yeah, well, I don't usually have a behemoth in my car,” Eddie says. Richie stretches where he sits. 

“Well, get used to it, then.” 

He swears that Eddie smiles, just a little. 

\--

Eddie really seems to mean what he said about driving around to waste time. They meander through town, going nowhere fast. 

“God, I wonder how much has changed around here,” he wonders aloud, though his eyes barely leave the road as he drives. Richie laughs. 

“Probably not much, honestly. It is Derry.” He gestures at the ages-old water tower and the farmland surrounding it as proof. “See? Same shit, different decade.” 

“Decade,” Eddie repeats, like the word is foreign to him. “Shit, Rich. It's been  _ decades.  _ That's insane.”

Richie nods, grinning despite the fact that he can feel the same punch to the chest Eddie is likely dealing with. “We’re old as fuck, Eds. Can't do much about that.” 

“I don't feel that old,” Eddie shrugs, not bothering with scolding him for nicknaming him. Richie looks at him for a long moment. 

“You don't look it, either,” he says honestly. Eddie smiles, but there's something shy in it. 

“You definitely look older,” he says, but before Richie can complain he adds, “But in a good way.” 

“Oh yeah?” Richie pushes, but Eddie just shrugs, nodding. Richie relaxes back in the passenger seat, watching scenery pass around them. “So, where we headed, Eds?” 

“Don't really know. Just figured we would drive around until something looked like fun. Might as well just drive right the hell out of Derry, huh?” When he laughs, Richie can't help but join him. He pulls out his cell phone, poking at it until he pulls up a satellite radio station, showing it to Eddie before pressing play. 

“An oldies station?” Eddie laughs. “What are we, 70?” 

“No, but that's where they stick all the good music now. Everything we listened to back in the day.” He lets the station play. Eddie shakes his head, despite beginning to rock in his seat to the sound. 

“Back in the day,” he repeats. “God, we  _ are _ old, Rich.” 

“S’okay by me,” Richie says, though he's never actually thought about it until that moment. 

“Me too, then,” Eddie replies, still driving, still rocking to the music as it plays. It reminds Richie of their youth, of the way they followed one another around through everything. 

It warms him from deep within his chest. 

\--

Maybe it's the nostalgia. Maybe it's the excitement of seeing a long-lost friend. But whatever magic floats in the air between the two of them, Richie wishes he could bottle and keep with him always. 

It's not that fairytale, Prince Charming kind of shit that movies have tried to sell him since he was a kid. He knew that wasn't for him even before he knew  _ princesses _ were not for him. Instead, the magic between him and Eddie is a long, aimless car ride and careful stops at red lights and 80s soft rock blaring from Richie’s phone - and it's the soundtrack of Richie's heart taking the same nosedive it took when he was young and in love with his closest friend. 

Eddie sings along with him when they find a familiar song - which is most of them, honestly. Richie buys a premium subscription on the spot to be able to skip songs freely and they discover that they were both obsessed with Footloose. Can Richie still do the dances he used to practice in his bedroom at home? Probably not. Would he try, just to hear Eddie laugh  _ like that  _ again? Absolutely. 

They discuss the finer points of their favorite songs and why the remake kind of sucked and before long, Richie is completely certain he's right back to being entirely gone on Eddie Kaspbrak. 

“I know everyone liked the theme and ‘Almost Paradise’, but ‘Let's Hear It for the Boy’ was really the unsung hero of that movie,” Eddie remarks, sounding assured. “It was always my favorite. It, uh…” he trails off, sounding far less confident. 

“It  _ what,  _ Eds?” Richie teases, wondering what kind of ridiculous story he's about to hear. They pull up to a stop light. Eddie looks at him, swallowing. 

“It kind of reminded me of you.” 

Richie blinks back at him. He tries to summon the lyrics to mind, but all he can think of is that the song is about praising the boy you love. Surely that isn't what Eddie means. 

“Yeah?” he asks dumbly. He can't think of another word in the fucking English language at the moment. Eddie has the nerve to just nod before turning back to look at the road. 

They're both quiet for a while as more of Derry’s unremarkable landmarks pass. They're near the edge of town when Eddie finds an empty, cleared lot where cars park when their drivers are headed to the nearby lake. He pulls in, still staring straight ahead for a long moment. 

The song on Richie's phone changes. 

“God, this song was the  _ one _ at school dances, remember?” Eddie laughs. He still won't look at Richie. Richie laughs anyway. 

“All those couples, singing to each other,” he recalls. He clears his throat and does his best impression of the singer.  _ “I wanna know what love is!”  _

_ “I want you to show me,” _ Eddie answers back, a wide grin on his face. They take turns with the verses, singing too loud for a car that holds just two of them and more memories than either of them is ready to address. 

Instead, they sing an old, familiar song back and forth. 

_ “I wanna feel what love is,” _ Richie sings, when his turn comes back around. This time, though, he catches Eddie's eye and can't look away. 

Eddie doesn't miss a beat. 

_ “I know you can show me.” _

They stare at one another, neither so much as blinking for a moment. Richie feels familiar panic rise in his chest, the same that rose every time he got too close to confessing to Eddie when they were young. They're older now, though, older and maybe a little wiser but clearly still unable to talk about anything. 

Eddie clears his throat as the song ends. Something with a quick, pounding beat plays next and he reaches out to skip it himself, his hand brushing Richie's as he does. Richie's breath catches in his throat like he's thirteen again. 

The next song brings a smile to Eddie's face and he lets it play. 

“Top Gun,” Richie whispers. He isn't sure what else to say. Eddie takes the wheel - this time in their conversation - and nods. 

“You know,” he starts, just as the singer’s breathy voice comes in. “I used to daydream. About this song. I used to…” he trails off, and as the song crests - singing ‘ _ take my breath away’  _ \- he does exactly that to Richie, like they're both kids again. 

Richie takes hold of his hand, squeezing it. “What about this song, Eds?” he asks. Eddie grins, small and guarded. 

“About having my first kiss. To this song. I know that's dumb. Probably everybody back then thought about that.” 

“I think it's cute,” Richie says, and then, without thinking, “I think  _ you're _ cute.” 

Eddie's eyes widen and he looks back at Richie like he's said something earthshaking. Richie can hardly draw a breath. Still, he tries. 

“Mean that,” he says, mostly so he can't back out of it. It's been too damned long. Still, he adds, “Sorry if that's weird.” 

“It's not weird,” Eddie assures him. He takes Richie’s hand with both of his. “I, um. I kind of… I kind of always thought my first kiss would be - I thought it would be you.”

Richie can't help the way he nearly leaps out of his seat at that, Eddie's hands still wrapped around his. His chest tightens and his throat follows suit, but  _ fuck,  _ if he's going to miss this chance.

“Yeah?” he asks, eloquent as always. He leans forward into Eddie's space, heart nearly rocketing out of his chest when Eddie mirrors him. 

“Mhm,” Eddie says. He presses his forehead against Richie's. Richie grins. 

“Sorry I never got the memo. I would've been there with fuckin’ bells on.” 

Eddie laughs at that, the sound of relief and excitement and a dozen other emotions swirling through it. It shatters the tension in the air, making way for something entirely new. It's more beautiful than anything Richie has ever heard. 

Richie pushes back against Eddie's forehead, some kind of unpracticed attempt at cuddling that Eddie doesn't seem to find sufficient. He unbuckles from his seat and moves a hand to the back of Richie's neck, bringing him close. Richie's head feels light as Eddie hums happily just beside his ear. 

“God, Eds,” Richie says, barely more than a whisper. He puts a hand on Eddie's side, one on his shoulder - whatever he can reach. “You have no idea… I've wanted this since we were, like, fourteen years old. Probably longer than that.” 

Eddie sits back to look at him and flushes, grinning in a way that sets fire to Richie's veins. “Why didn't you say something? Then? Sooner?” 

“I was a punk-ass kid with a big nose and glasses who spent all his time at the arcade,” Richie snorts. “It's not like I was a hot property. Didn't think you'd be into it.” 

Eddie laughs. “Did you even know me back then?” he asks. “I'll have you know I had a crush on you for most of middle school and at least half of high school.” He pulls Richie forward by his shirt; Richie goes more than willingly. 

“What about the other half?” he asks, fumbling with the buttons on Eddie's crisp, tailored shirt. He pushes it off to find a snug-fitting white t-shirt beneath it.  _ God, he looks so good.  _

“What do you mean?” Eddie wonders, half lost in the way his hands are roaming over Richie's chest and sides. Richie leans in close, lips right next to Eddie’s ear. 

“You said  _ half _ of high school. What happened during the other half?” 

“Gave up,” Eddie admits, looking up at Richie with those big, dark eyes. The sweet little pout he's always had hasn't gone anywhere, somehow looks even  _ better _ with age. Richie's heart plummets in his chest at the words. 

“Ah, Eds,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to Eddie's again. “I was right there.” He lets his arms loops around Eddie's neck and pulls him close. “I'm right  _ here.”  _

“Can I kiss you?” Eddie asks, like Richie would say anything other than  _ yes, please.  _ All he can actually do is nod. 

The first, soft press of Eddie's lips against his are like something familiar. It's the way he reaches up to tenderly hold Richie's face as their mouths slot together that feels new - and in the best possible way. Richie tries not to sigh into the kiss like a besotted teenager, but that's the way Eddie makes him  _ feel.  _ Eddie beats him to it, though, pressing pretty little noises against Richie’s lips. It's everything Richie never thought he would have and when Eddie begins to pull away, he chases him for more. 

“Mm, worth it,” Eddie whispers. Richie cocks an eyebrow, still staring at Eddie's kiss-slicked lips. 

“Worth waiting, what - 30 years?” Eddie clarifies. He sounds almost giddy. Richie gets it, he really does. “However long it's been.” 

“God,  _ fuck yeah. _ More than worth it.” 

They spend the next few minutes wrapped up in one another, making every attempt to make up for those many missed years, before Richie breaks the silence in the car.

“You, uh - You staying anywhere specific tonight, or…?” 

“Mr. Tozier are you inviting me to your hotel?” Eddie snorts. Richie grins, arms snaking around Eddie's waist. 

“Only if you're saying yes.” 

They kiss for another few minutes, in no real hurry to get anywhere until Eddie remembers himself. “Tell me where I'm going,” he says, looking at himself in the rear view mirror to finger comb his hair back into place. “And hands off me while I'm driving.” 

“Ooh, yeah, talk risk avoidance to me, Eds,” Richie moans, and giggles like a kid when Eddie punches him in the arm before starting the car. 

\--

They make it all the way into Richie's hotel room - with the door closed and everything - before they can't keep their hands to themselves anymore. 

Eddie's hands feel so good on his face, his chest, his shoulders - everywhere. Richie can't think straight. He wraps arms around Eddie's waist and lifts him off the floor, hoisting his back against the wall of the room and holding him there so he can kiss him again. And again. And again. 

“You're - _fuck -_ you're strong,” Eddie remarks between kisses. Richie hums into his mouth, an attempt at a laugh that comes out sounding much more like he's preening under Eddie's attention. Maybe he is. He can't remember the last time he was so lost in a moment, so turned on, so crazy about another human being. 

Eddie kisses him again and he stops thinking about it. Everything simplifies to this, to here, to now. He slides a hand down Eddie's side and squeezes his ass, head spinning at the way Eddie whines into his mouth. God, he's already so hard it's bordering on painful. He turns them both and all but flings Eddie onto the bed, electricity ripping through him at the hungry way Eddie watches him from where he lands there. 

He grabs for Richie and pulls him onto the bed, down beside him for more kissing, more touching, more  _ everything.  _

Richie drags open-mouthed kisses along Eddie’s jaw, down his neck. He cants his hips forward and Eddie answers in kind, rolling his body against Richie's in a way that ought to be  _ illegal _ it's so fucking good. Richie groans at the feeling, and the knowledge that it's Eddie he's holding, Eddie who’s making him feel this way.  _ He's about to have sex with Eddie Kaspbrak. _

Abruptly, everything stops. 

Eddie pushes against his chest, just hard enough to get his attention. Richie looks at him, eyes wide.

“I'm married,” Eddie says. It sounds less serious than those words ought to. 

Richie shakes his head all the same. He moves back. “I'm - I didn't know, Eds. Eddie. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-”

“You did nothing wrong,” Eddie assures him. His breathing still heaves. The way he reaches for Richie's arm as he says it makes it hard for Richie not to collect him into his arms. Knowing he is someone else's husband keeps Richie's hands right where they are. 

“We’re separated,” Eddie continues. He looks at his hands; he wears no ring. “She wants things that I just… She's not happy and neither am I.”

“You guys gonna make it unofficial, then?” Richie tries to joke. It falls flat. 

Eddie shrugs. “Neither of us has actually said the word divorce. I guess I kind of thought after I came down here and got my head on straight I would go back and try to make it work with her.” Richie's throat constricts at that, thinking of Eddie going back to a happy home with someone other than him. Still, he nods. 

“But after today,” Eddie continues, a small, sad smile creeping across his face. “After this? I don't think there's any way I can.” He slides his hand over the back of Richie's and Richie takes and holds it on impulse, an instinct left over from their childhood to protect and comfort his friend. Eddie smiles down at the join of their hands. 

“I just. I can't do that to her, though. Or anyone. I won't be a cheater. And you,” he pauses, looking up at Richie with those damned doe eyes Richie is so crazy about, rubbing soft little circles over the back of Richie's hand, “You don't deserve to be anyone's side piece.” 

“How do you even know the phrase ‘side piece’, Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie laughs, but only to hide the fact that tears are welling in his eyes. Eddie huffs his indignation but it doesn't stop him reaching up to wipe Richie's tears as they fall. 

“I know a lot more than you probably think I do,” he says. His voice is quiet, tender. It makes Richie cry that much harder. 

Eddie pulls him forward, lets Richie rest his face in the crook of his neck. “I understand if you don't want me to,” he says, “But I'd love to stay with you tonight. Just - Just stay and talk. Maybe kiss you once or twice. Maybe a whole lot. Whatever you're okay with.” 

Richie looks up, face ruddy from tears and a grin already pulling at the corners of his mouth. His glasses are lopsided and he knows he looks like a mess. Eddie doesn't seem to mind, placing gentle hands on either side of his face. 

“If it's you, I'm okay with anything, Eds,” Richie promises. Eddie pulls him forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips and Richie does his best not to sob against him. He isn't even sure what he's feeling, but he knows it's too fucking much for his heart and his mind to handle, even as a team. He lets it fall down his face as Eddie carefully wipes it away, tear by tear. 

“I'm sorry,” Richie offers after a few moments. Eddie looks at him expectantly, but Richie isn't actually sure what to apologize for. “I'm a mess,” he settles on. Eddie doesn't seem to think that’s the right answer. 

“I'm the one who should apologize. And you're not,” he says. Then he laughs, shaking his head. “Okay, yeah, you are. But you've always been a mess, Rich. Since we were little. This beautiful, addictive disaster that I can't… I can't stay away from. I don't want to.” 

Richie sniffles, enamored as ever. “You're pretty cool too, Spaghetti Man. An uptight, neurotic jerk with pretty eyes and a cute face and you're still hot even though we're old, and just… Fuck you, dude.” He laughs because it's the worst possible way to tell Eddie just how fond he is of him, but the two of them have always kind of had their own language when it comes to that sort of thing. Eddie grins, wide and beautiful, and Richie's heart squeezes in his chest. 

“So, it's okay if I stay for a while, then?” Eddie asks after they just stare at each other for a few seconds. He reaches up to wipe the last, lingering tears from the corners of Richie's eyes; Richie takes his hand and holds it there. 

“If I had my way, you'd stay forever,” he says, knowing full-well how fucking cheesy it sounds. He presses a kiss to Eddie's open palm. “But however long you've got to spare is fine for now.” 

\--

As it turns out, Eddie has all night to spare. 

Richie would be lying if he told anyone he didn't want to pull Eddie under the thick, stiff hotel blankets and make love to him. You don't just  _ fuck _ a guy like Eddie Kaspbrak. He promises himself that if he ever gets the chance, he'll tell him as much, right to his face. 

But he also can't imagine pushing past whatever Eddie is comfortable with. His body  _ aches _ for Eddie in every way, and he's glad for the closeness they have - even if it's not what he really wants. 

“So, you never married?” Eddie asks, looking down at where his fingers are threaded with Richie's. He lay with his back on Richie's chest, tucked into the crook of his arm, and Richie marvels at how slight Eddie still is. It only makes him want to hold him more. 

“Nah. Never even had any serious… I don't know, partners? Sounds dumb as fuck when I say it like that. You know what I mean.” 

Eddie laughs, the sound ringing in Richie's chest as they lie close together. 

“Yeah, I do.” Eddie sighs. “Myra has been the only person I've really been with. I never really dated until I met her.” 

“Special girl,” Richie remarks, though he presses a kiss to the top of Eddie's head, just to remind himself that this moment is real. That Eddie is here with him, instead of the wife he doesn't love. Against him, Eddie laughs again, this time less musically. 

“She's. She's just like my mother was, honestly.”

“Oh, God, Eds,” Richie blurts out. Eddie laughs again, encouraging him. “Why'd you do that to yourself?” 

“I don't know,” Eddie admits. “I honestly wonder if I was, like, trying to punish myself. Like, my mom used to give me these big lectures about how being gay was a sin. Maybe I married Myra as my punishment for liking guys when I was younger.” 

“That's rough,” Richie says. Then, a moment of silence later, “You still like guys?” 

Eddie looks up at him, nose bumping against Richie's scruffy chin. “One, anyway.” 

“Must be a pretty cool guy,” Richie says, maybe feeling a little foolish for asking. At that, Eddie shakes with laughter. 

“Actually, he's a trash-mouthed asshole that tells jokes for a living,” he says. He reaches up to take hold of Richie's chin, turning his head to kiss him. When they part, he breathes against Richie's lips, “And I think I might kind of wanna keep him around, anyway.” 

Richie's eyes widen, and he sits up further, still clutching Eddie close to him. 

“Oh, yeah?” he asks. Eddie shrugs one shoulder, grinning. 

“Dunno. Gonna see how things play out, I guess.” 

“God, just tell me how to play, I'll make it happen,” he says, flipping them over so he can hover above Eddie on strong, straight arms. “Fuckin’... Put me in, coach.” 

“Richie!” Eddie cackles, jabbing him hard in the side. Richie lets himself fall, careful not to bring his full weight down onto Eddie. They poke and tickle and let hands roam over one another like they're teenagers and it's ridiculous and Richie drinks in every moment. 

“We're like kids,” Eddie says after a moment, giving voice to Richie's thoughts. He is breathless and flushed and his hair is out of place, and Richie thinks he's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. 

“A little bit,” he admits, kissing Eddie's neck. “We never got to do this when we  _ were _ kids.” 

“A true injustice,” Eddie hums, fingers finding their way to Richie's curls. “Speaking of us being old, what time do you sleep?” 

“Never, with you in my bed,” says Richie. “Why, you planning on running out once I'm down?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Just don't want to keep you up all night making out and acting like idiots.” 

Richie huffs. “I would gladly spend every night for the rest of my life doing both of those things with you, Eds,” he says, entirely genuine. When Eddie's expression goes soft, Richie can't help himself. “And maybe sliding you the salami once you get out of your deadend marriage.” 

“Richie fucking Tozier!” Eddie shouts, slapping him with no real force behind it. Richie bellows with laughter, nearly falling off the bed. 

“That's what I'm gonna change my name to. Just for you, Spaghetti.” 

“God, fuck you,” Eddie groans, though there's still a telling fondness in his voice. He sits until Richie settles again and then makes himself comfortable beside him once more. They lie that way for a few long, silent moments, until Richie begins to wonder if Eddie is asleep. When Eddie speaks again, his voice is low and soft. 

“Lets just enjoy tonight, okay? We'll talk about the rest another time.”

That's fine by Richie. Well, maybe not entirely. But it's closer to his fantasies than he has ever been in his life, so he takes what he's given and holds Eddie close. The sounds of Richie’s satellite radio station play in the background until they're both asleep. 

\--

The next morning is like waking from a dream - except the dream is real and it has adorable, curly hair when it wakes up. God, it couldn't be better, even if they  _ had _ actually slept together, Richie thinks. 

Eddie grumbles at the sunlight but stretches all the same, curling against Richie for a few extra minutes. 

“Wake up, Eddie my love,” Richie sings, meaning it more than he ever has. “Time to face the music.”

“What music?” Eddie groans. “Your cheesy-ass oldies you keep playing?” 

“You love it and you know you do,” Richie grins. Eddie rolls his eyes but he cranes his neck and lets Richie kiss him, sweet and slow. Then, he grimaces. 

“Mouthwash. Now.”

They share space in the bathroom, swishing hotel mouthwash around and laughing when Richie accidentally spits it too hard and splatters it all over the mirror. Richie's chest is warm as he watches Eddie brew a pot of cheap coffee, complaining the entire time. 

He could really get used to this, he thinks. 

They talk over breakfast ordered from room service, Richie's idea, mostly to keep Eddie with him longer. Eddie does his best not to look like he slept in his clothes, then they go together to retrieve Richie's car. They return to the hotel, and spend another twenty minutes making out in Richie's room. 

He has no idea where the day - or this thing blossoming between the two of them - is going. Still, he's happy just to hitch a ride. 

“Just drop the divorce bomb and come live with me in Chicago,” Richie says, watching Eddie scroll through his phone. He has never known much about romance, but he can't think of anything grander, anything more romantic than sweeping Eddie away to a better, happier life. He smiles. “You know I've got the money. You won't need to pay rent or shit.” 

Eddie fixes him with a look that is decidedly  _ not _ what Richie anticipated. 

“So, just because you've got money means you think other people can just drop their lives and change everything on a moment's notice?” 

Richie blinks back at him. “I- What? No, I was just-” 

“I can't just tell Myra I'm leaving and then disappear,” Eddie says. The familiar wind-up of his anger is starting; Richie wishes he weren't so familiar with it all of a sudden. 

“I didn't mean-”

“And yeah, you've got money. Good for you. I wouldn't want to live with someone and just not contribute, you know. I have a job that I can't just leave. I have no idea if I would be able to transfer to someplace near you, even with plenty of notice. Do you even think about things like that?” 

Richie shakes his head. “No. No, Eddie, I didn't mean to-”

“Didn't mean to what?” Eddie demands. Richie had forgotten how terrifying he could be when he was angry. “Didn't mean to treat my life like it was just some tragic backstory for your love interest? Well, that's not what this is, Richie. You may live your life on stage, but some of us have actual shit to deal with back home.”

“I never said you didn't,” Richie says, finally raising his voice to match Eddie's. “I just wanted you to be with me.” 

“I thought I wanted that too,” Eddie says, frowning hard. “But I have a life back home and actual shit to do and you have no respect for that.” 

“Does any of your ‘actual shit’ make you happy?” Richie asks abruptly. It catches Eddie off guard. 

“I - Does it what?” 

“Your life back home. Does it make you happy? Moira or whatever her name is? Your job? Any of it? Are you happy out there?” 

Eddie stares back at him for a moment. Then, he draws himself up taller. Why, Richie isn't sure. 

“Happiness isn't what life is all about, Richie. Some people have responsibilities.”

“You think I don't?” Richie asks, though his voice has only half the venom of Eddie’s. “Besides, I'm not asking you to ditch anything you love to be with me. I'm asking if what you have now is what you want. Because if not, I want to help you find what you  _ do _ want. That's all.” 

For a moment, Eddie's expression softens. He searches Richie's expression like he's thinking something over, turning it over in his mind like he does with abso-fucking-lutely every decision he makes. 

Then he's frowning again, though, and stepping backward like it might make his decision easier to understand for Richie. It doesn't. 

“What I think about my life doesn't matter. But I have to go back to it. I'm sorry, Rich.” 

Richie does not hear the footsteps that follow that sentence. He does not hear the hotel door open and click closed again - or the second of hesitation between those sounds. His senses dull and darken and he lets it overwhelm him. 

He lay on the bed staring at nothing, replaying the last twenty-four hours in his memory until he is certain Eddie has had time to leave town. To board a plane or rent a car or whatever the fuck he's going to do - to go back home to a life that doesn't include Richie. 

He lets time pass until it's as if Eddie was never there with him at all. 

\--

The trip back to Chicago is awful. 

Richie assumed it would suck, but that was before he knew he was going to be carting home a broken heart along with his luggage. Thankfully there's no additional charge for that. Just a strange, empty pain that he can't really explain. 

In a way it's familiar. He remembers the way his heart used to ache, just thinking about Eddie. The way it hurt when they all went their separate ways. The way it sank when Eddie told him he was married. It's a pain he has felt before. 

It doesn't make it any easier, though. He gives his best forced smiles - the kind he usually saves for shows - to every person he passes as he makes his way home. The staff at the airport could care less. It's fine that way. 

It isn't until he makes it home that he can fall apart properly. Never has he felt so close to something better - something real. It was if he had realized what he had wanted and been searching for his entire life all in the course of a few, perfect hours. And he left it behind in Derry - or rather, it left him. 

Richie goes straight to sleep on his couch like he can't even make it to his bedroom. Maybe it's just easier than sleeping alone in his bed. 

\--

The weeks drag by after that. 

Richie attempts to go back to work, but it's nearly impossible to tell jokes when you haven't felt like smiling in so long. After two poorly-received shows, he takes a week off. He tells his manager and agent he just needs to collect his thoughts. 

What he really needs to figure out is how to take those thoughts and make them into something he can live with. He just has no idea how to do that. 

It boils down to a lot of what Bev would call “self care”. Eddie would probably call it an unhealthy lifestyle, but Richie is doing his best not to think of what Eddie would think of anything he does. His best is definitely not good enough, though.

He thinks of Eddie when he lingers too long in a hot shower, thinks of Eddie when he forgoes getting his haircut. He even thinks of Eddie when he grocery shops for the kind of junk food that makes him feel better, if only for a few minutes. Richie tries to ignore Eddie's critical voice in his mind, though he secretly cherishes it. 

He also listens to the same cheesy 80s soft rock station he listened to in Derry, since he apparently hates himself. Most of the songs remind him of Eddie's voice as they sang along to them or the way Eddie's nose wrinkles when he laughs, or Eddie's stupid  _ fucking adorable  _ eyes and the little wrinkles he's getting at their corners now that they're getting older. 

_ How do you fall in love with someone so completely in a day _ , he wonders. Maybe it's easier when you spent a lifetime falling in love with them before. 

It's a sad scene, honestly. Richie knows that much, which is why he all but holes himself up in his house for days on end, ordering delivery and watching Disney shows until his brain is something akin to jello. He's about to watch that abomination of a Lion King remake, phone still wailing  _ ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’  _ when he hears a knock at his front door. 

Richie stands, pulling a shirt on. He doesn't have food coming tonight, so he looks through his peep hole cautiously. It's a misty, rainy evening, difficult to see outside the door. But he can make out what looks like a small, slender man with dark, neatly combed hair, and-

_ Eddie.  _

Richie throws the door open, startling Eddie. Eddie!  _ God, it's really him.  _

Eddie swallows, eyes wide as he looks Richie over. Richie suddenly wishes he had something other than sweatpants and a too-big t-shirt on. 

“You were right,” Eddie says, exhaustion in his voice. His hair is dampened from the rain. He doesn't bother with pretense or pleasantries; Richie wouldn't want him to, anyway. 

“About most of it, anyway,” Eddie continues. “And I - Well...” he trails off and simply gestures to the luggage in his hand - to himself, standing on Richie's doorstep. 

Richie blinks, waiting for this to be a dream, for Eddie to disappear, but he doesn't. He's real and he's  _ here,  _ and Richie could fall to his knees in front of him and cry. 

Instead, he laughs. 

“Took you long enough,” he cracks before he can stop himself. “You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble if you would've just--”

“Please shut up,” Eddie says, stepping into his space. He grabs Richie's shirt and twists it in his fingers, pulling their chests flush together. His voice is fond despite his words. “Please, just shut the fuck up.”

It's not textbook romance, but when have they ever been? Richie's hands fly to Eddie's waist, his smile unbridled as he delights in the closeness of their bodies. 

“Make me,” he says, predictable as ever. Eddie laps it up, though, all the permission he needs to close the space between his lips and Richie's. 

This time, Richie doesn't hide the fact that the feeling of Eddie's lips on his turns his head. He sighs, almost whimpers into Eddie's mouth as he wraps desperate arms around him. Despite all of his hurry, though, Eddie takes his time, still reaching up to hold Richie's face in that tender way that makes Richie crazy. 

“Thank you,” Richie says, half out of his mind from a  _ fucking kiss, _ and Eddie laughs against his mouth. 

“For what?” 

“This,” Richie replies, leaning down to kiss him again, then once more. “You.” He takes hold of Eddie's waist and hauls him fully into his arms. Eddie clings to his suitcase and Richie steps back through the door, bringing Eddie and his luggage both inside. 

The door clicks closed and Eddie forgets about the suitcase. 

Richie's phone is still blaring from its place on the side table. Eddie takes note when the song changes, eying Richie with a raised eyebrow. 

“Journey?” he asks. Richie shrugs, glad for the weight of Eddie in his arms. 

“Open Arms. Oldies station,” he answers. “You know me.” 

Eddie's expression warms, eyes dark and pupils blown wide as he looks back at him, pushing fingers through Richie's hair. “Yeah. I know you.” 

Richie just holds him for a few seconds, reveling in the feeling of  _ the love of his fucking life _ there with him, wanting him,  _ looking _ at him that way. Everything he's hated about the last few weeks suddenly clears like the sky after a summer storm, and there is only sunshine -  _ his _ only sunshine. He presses artless kisses against any skin he can reach, kissing Eddie's face and neck as he thinks of everything he wants to do, everything he wants to give him. 

Then he thinks of before - of the hotel - and stops himself. 

“You still married?” he asks. Eddie shrugs one shoulder, looking pleased with himself. 

“Technically the divorce isn't final. That might take a while. But it's over and done with, as far as I'm concerned.” He kisses the tip of Richie's nose, impossibly sweet. “And besides, Myra told me to - and I quote - ‘go and live my fucking life and make myself happy somewhere far away from her’, so I think this counts.” 

“Oh, we'll make it count,” Richie promises, and God, he has never meant something so much in his life. He holds Eddie closer and moves toward his bedroom, kicking the door open so he doesn't have to miss even a moment of that nearness. 

Eddie kisses him, on the mouth, along his jaw, then beside his ear before he whispers, “I'm gonna hold you to that.” 

Richie allows Eddie to nip playfully at his lips for a few more seconds before depositing him with a thump onto his bed. It's taller and more plush than the hotel bed they shared by far, which makes the way Eddie bounces on it all the more adorable. 

Richie can't help himself. 

“I love you,” he says, watching Eddie climb up the bed to get comfortable. Eddie stops and looks back at him, eyes wide. 

“You… Yeah?” 

“I yeah,” Richie grins. He climbs onto the bed as well, crawling up to join Eddie where he sits. “I think I always have.” 

Eddie considers him for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip before letting himself smile. “I think… Me too.” He sheds the cardigan he's wearing, smiles wider when Richie reaches behind himself and pulls his t-shirt off in one smooth motion. “For such a long time.” 

The kiss that Richie steals is soft and careful, but Eddie brings urgency to it when he takes hold of Richie's face and sighs into his mouth. Richie only sits back to tug Eddie's collared shirt over his head and paw at his belt. He lays Eddie back like he's something precious and breakable before continuing. 

“Want these off?” he asks instead of demanding. Eddie nods, letting Richie help him out of his pants. They look expensive and probably custom-tailored or some shit. Richie does his best not to discard them in a heap on the floor. 

“What about you?” Eddie asks, already sounding beautifully breathless. Richie nods, nearly jumping out of his sweatpants. Eddie  _ giggles _ at him. Richie beams at the sound. 

“You're so pretty,” he says, because it's true and it always has been. Eddie is in nothing but his underwear now, and  _ God,  _ he's gorgeous. “Prettiest boy I've ever seen.”

“M’an old man, now,” Eddie laughs. Richie takes a moment to look him over, head to toe. 

“Sure don't look like an old man to me, sir,” he chuckles. “Besides, no matter how old you are, I'm gonna be just as old. And you're always gonna be the prettiest fucking thing I've ever seen.” 

“Rich,” Eddie starts, voice choked off like he might cry. Richie understands. Eddie wipes his arm sloppily across his face, laughing into the bend of his elbow. “Damn it, I don't want to cry right now.” 

“Why not?” Richie asks, leaning up to kiss the back of Eddie's arm. “We've got, like, thirty years of feelings and shit to deal with. I figure crying is probably gonna happen.” 

“Just not over…” Eddie trails off again, letting his arm fall away. Richie looks at him fondly, patiently. Eddie takes a slow, deep breath. “I shouldn't fall apart when someone calls me cute or whatever,” he says. “But it's like - Everything you say just hits me right in the chest. I've missed all this. I didn't even know I was missing it. But I missed you. I missed  _ out _ on you.” 

“Well, not anymore,” Richie promises. He nips at Eddie's bottom lip, Eddie's resulting grin proving contagious. “I'm here and, better yet,  _ you're _ here.” 

“I'm here,” Eddie agrees, like he's turning that thought over in his mind. “And you're… Thank you.” He turns to fix his eyes squarely on Richie's, stroking his hand down the side of Richie's face. His eyes are shiny and wet. He doesn't wipe at them this time. “Thank you for letting me come back. Thank you for being here. Just… Thank you.” 

Richie feels his throat tighten, tries to pretend it's not because they can't  _ both _ be crying, can they? He leans forward to bump his nose against Eddie's face, nuzzling the soft, smooth skin there. 

“Hey - open arms, right?” he says, and Eddie laughs that sweet, musical laugh that tells Richie he's said something ridiculous and Eddie likes it anyway. 

A few rooms away, Richie's phone is still dutifully playing classic eighties tunes. It drifts all the way into his bedroom. __

_ I’m gonna keep on loving you. _

_ ‘Cause it's the only thing I wanna do... _

“You're so fucking lame,” Eddie says, all fondness and warmth. He looks back at Richie with the biggest, softest eyes Richie has ever seen, slicing Richie's every facade away effortlessly. He's always been able to do that; Richie moves closer to him, laid bare and in love with the feeling of it. 

“And you're into it,” he teases. He can hardly believe his luck, in that respect. Eddie nods, pulling him closer still until their bodies might as well be fused together, legs overlapping and tangling, pawing and pushing at what's left of their clothes until Richie's boxers begin to feel uncomfortably constricting. 

He moves to his knees to ask if this is really okay - really what Eddie wants - before sliding out of his shorts. He tries not to yelp out loud when Eddie's fingers tug at the waistband first. 

“This okay?” Eddie says, beating him to that, too. Richie nods and then Eddie is pulling his boxers down like he's unwrapping a gift, slow, savoring the moment. When Richie springs free Eddie gasps, swearing under his breath. His hungry eyes have Richie's cock twitching under his stare. God, he's lost control of his own fucking body. 

Richie can't find it in himself to care too much. 

Eddie is lying propped on one side, hand still easing Richie's boxers down his legs when Richie finally gathers enough working brain cells to shuffle out of them completely. Eddie watches him expectantly; Richie's hands are on his hips to return the favor in a blink. 

“Shit, Eddie, these things are, like… They're painted on,” he breathes, peeling Eddie's boxer briefs down. He tries to use the same slow, teasing pace that Eddie used on him, but the moment Eddie's cock is bared, Richie's mind blanks - almost as much as his mouth waters.

“Fuck, Eds, why is your dick so big?!” he gapes, unashamedly staring. 

Eddie flusters, and eyebrow shooting up his forehead. “Yours is bigger than mine!” 

“Maybe slightly, but I'm like nine feet tall,” Richie argues, flailing his long-ass limbs for emphasis. “You're this little compact thing and yet you have a massive dick. Fucking illegal.”

At that, Eddie laughs. Under Richie's gaze, he looks powerful, strong - like he's enjoying being so openly desired. Richie doesn't have time to wonder if that's a new feeling for Eddie, to mourn the fact that no one has made him feel that way. A second later, Eddie is flipping them both until he is astride Richie's hips, looking down at him smugly and rolling his hips as he says, “Call the cops, then.” 

Richie makes some kind of strangled noise like an idiot, shuddering beneath Eddie's weight. “Eddie, that was seriously the hottest thing that has ever happened to me and if you want me not to come immediately I'm gonna need you to stop.” 

Eddie moves off of Richie, coming to lie beside him instead. “Stop talking, got it.” 

“God, you're still so fucking mouthy,” Richie says, a wave of nostalgia crashing over him as the heat of his arousal bears down on that same shore. It's so much at once. He fucking  _ loves _ all of it. “You drive me nuts, Spaghetti.” 

“Don't call me that when we're literally having sex, asshole,” Eddie grimaces, even as he helps Richie climb up and over him, arms on either side of his head. 

“Technically we're not, yet,” Richie points out. Before he can continue, Eddie wriggles out from beneath him. 

“Oh, okay. I thought we were about to do something here, but clearly-”

“Oh, no you don't, Kaspbrak,” Richie snorts, grabbing Eddie by his waist. He pulls him close, wrestling him back down to the bed, hovering above him, grinning madly, eyes wild and face glowing. And then, quieter, “I mean - if you still want to.” 

“Richie,” Eddie says, hesitating for a moment. He reaches up, traces outstretched fingers over Richie's face, holding his chin gingerly. “I am probably gonna want this all the time, every day, for the rest of my life. Now, come here and show me what I've been missing.” 

“Fuck me, Eds,” Richie swears, letting Eddie pull him down for a searing kiss. Eddie laughs against his lips. 

“Me first,” he argues, and Richie nods like the absolute yes-man he is when it comes to anything Eddie wants. 

“Can I do one little thing first?” Richie asks, kissing down Eddie's face and over his neck, his collarbone, his chest. Eddie tangles a hand in his curls and looks at him, waiting for clarification. 

“Wanna taste your dick,” Richie says, doing his best to butter Eddie up with kisses placed down the stupidly-toned length of his stomach and sides. Eddie props himself up on his elbows and nods like an enthusiastic teenager. 

“Good,” Richie grins, nipping at Eddie's bare hip. “I've had like… seventeen thousand wet dreams about exactly this, even  _ before _ I knew your dick was huge, so-”

“I wish I had known,” Eddie says, far too earnestly. “I'd have dropped my pants so damn quick, Rich. Or just dropped to my knees and done it for you.”

“Fuck,” Richie groans, fingers already wrapping around Eddie's cock. “Please don't talk about you on your knees for me right now, Eds, I need to last more than, like, eight seconds.” 

“You're literally about to-”

That's as far as Eddie gets before his words and his breath are stolen. Richie's smugness at being the reason for his loss surely won't last; Eddie affects him so damned easily. But it doesn't matter. He'll soak it up while it lasts. 

“God, Richie,” Eddie says, voice already beautifully broken. He loops fingers in whatever he can reach of Richie's hair and tugs, just enough to encourage. Richie moans as he relaxes around Eddie's length, slides his mouth down to take more of his cock between his lips. Eddie smells and tastes and  _ feels _ amazing, hot and hard and heavy on Richie's tongue as he eases in further, until Richie can feel him in his throat. 

Eddie must feel it, too. His back arches off the mattress and he whines high in his throat, swearing and praising Richie in the same breath. Richie moans again, swallowing around Eddie the best he can. He has to pin Eddie's hips in place to keep from choking when he surges upward. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Eddie murmurs, one hand petting through Richie's hair. “Your fucking  _ mouth,  _ Richie, God.” 

“Mm,” Richie hums, pulling back enough to lick a long, hot stripe up Eddie's entire length and over the head of his cock. “Wanna see why they call me Trashmouth?” 

“Is that -  _ ah _ \- is that one of your usual pick up lines?” Eddie laughs, breathless. Richie grins, licking his lips. 

“Never used it before,” he says honestly. “Why? S’it good?” 

“I'd fuck you,” Eddie shrugs, as if he isn't breathless from having Richie's mouth on him. Richie dives in for a kiss, which Eddie grants him to his great surprise. 

“Was kind of hoping so,” Richie breathes against his mouth. Before he can continue teasing, though, Eddie's fingers are wrapping around his cock and squeezing  _ so pretty _ he can't think straight. “Eds,  _ fuck-” _

“Mhm,” Eddie agrees. He presses kisses to Richie's face, laughing breathlessly at the way his stubble scrapes back. “So, what's the plan?” 

Richie bucks up into the tight circle of Eddie's fingers, groans beside his ear as he all but climbs atop him. “Whatever you want,” he says, “However you want it.” 

“Want it like this,” Eddie says in reply, kissing a tender little spot behind Richie's ear. “Wanna see your face.” 

Richie nods, hips still moving of their own accord. “Good. Wanna be able to kiss yours.” 

Eddie huffs a laugh, tightening his grip on Richie's cock. “You're a sap.” He presses another kiss to Richie's neck, biting and open mouthed, and then another, softer and slower. “And a sweetheart.” 

“Your sweetheart,” Richie agrees. Eddie hums, a happy sound that vibrates from deep in his chest. 

“My sweetheart.” He urges Richie to look at him, nosing at his face and gently tilting his face upwards until they see eye to eye. “Now - fuck me.” 

“Can't do that,” Richie says resolutely. Eddie's face blanks for a moment, confused. Richie shakes his head. “Have to  _ make love _ to you. At least this time.” 

“Ah. Duly noted,” Eddie says, his grin returning in a way that lights his whole face. Richie can hardly stand it, he's so cute. 

Then Eddie is prodding at him to locate condoms and lube and he's focused on the task at hand again. He'll just have to wait to tell Eddie how adorable he is. For now. 

\--

They're at it for what feels like hours. Eddie makes the sweetest, softest little sounds as Richie works him open, tiny little  _ oh, oh, ah _ sounds, whispered and breathed into Richie's ear and punctuated by whimpers and whines that make Richie's cock  _ ache _ for him. 

He takes his time because Eddie's new to this altogether, but also because Eddie fucking deserves it. He divorced his wife and left his home and quit his job and just fucking  _ jumped _ because Richie asked him to, and it's a fact not lost on Richie as he prepares his body. Richie presses kisses to his hips, his thighs, the swell of his ass as Eddie loses himself more and more to it, opens up and relaxes and lets Richie in because hasn't he always? Richie is reverent, near to tears just from watching him by the time Eddie grasps his wrist. 

“Wanna try,” he breathes, stroking Richie's wrist weakly with his thumb. He looks down to lock eyes with Richie, be certain he's seen and heard. “M’ready to try.” 

“Yeah,” Richie agrees, though, he has no way of being sure. He presses gently at Eddie's entrance again, slick and soft with the give he's worked the muscles there into. Eddie's body accepts him, welcomes two, three fingers easily. Richie could probably slide his fourth in without issue, but he has more important things to do. 

Like whatever Eddie Kaspbrak tells him to do. 

Eddie watches him like he's something - someone - truly important as he grabs a condom, tears and begins to unroll it over himself. It's one of those mundane acts, something that is necessary for sex but never exciting on its own that Richie just accepts. But Eddie reaches up between them and helps to unroll and fit the latex over his cock, helps slick him with more lube, and Richie suddenly  _ loves _ wearing a condom. 

When Eddie takes his hand and holds it with the same fingers that were just smoothing lubricant over him, Richie knows he's just as gone as Richie himself feels. Richie holds his hand anyway, kissing the back of it before lining himself up with Eddie's entrance and pressing against him. 

“You okay?” he asks, needing to be sure. Eddie squeezes the hand he holds before letting it okay, nodding. He lifts his hips and presses them down toward Richie's cock further, biting his bottom lip in a way that almost makes Richie lose it right then and there. 

He focuses on the task at hand and tries to keep his composure as he presses into Eddie just enough to open him up. 

“Ngh, fuck,” Eddie grits out, and Richie freezes. He looks down at Eddie, waiting for direction. Eddie looks back up at him and grins, a bead of sweat breaking and falling down the side of his beautiful face. 

“Don't - S’good, I promise,” he says, adjusting the angle of his hips again. “Just go slow and I'm good.”

“If you're good, I'm good,” Richie promises, then leans into the place where their bodies connect just enough to inch further in. 

“Fuck,  _ yes,” _ Eddie gasps, encouraging him. Richie moves forward in small, smooth movements, a little at a time. Every time, Eddie acts like he's  _ seeing God  _ and Richie's chest is far too full. 

“You doing okay?” he asks, almost bottomed out. Eddie nods, laughing, and Richie can't help laughing along with him. 

“You're so fucking big,” Eddie says, almost dreamily. “I'm sure you hear that all the time.” 

“You drastically overestimate how often I get laid, Spaghetti,” Richie snorts, unable to keep his hips from rolling forward that last little bit. Eddie hisses, an overwhelmed sound that quickly becomes a moan as he relaxes around Richie's cock. 

“We'll change that, then,” he promises, looking back at Richie with those big, beautiful eyes, and Richie swallows hard, gritting his teeth. 

“Eds, I'm gonna fucking lose it if you don't chill with that.” 

“With what?” Eddie asks innocently, as if he isn't lying there, beaded in sweat and stupidly pretty, split open on Richie's cock. Richie squeezes whatever part of him he can reach. 

“Just… That. Being you.” 

“Can't stop being me, Rich,” Eddie teases. He circles his hips experimentally, biting his lip again at the feeling. Richie is  _ dying.  _ Eddie seems amused. “Gonna have to be more specific.” 

“I mean,” he says, rolling his hips back just a fraction of an inch, then forward again. Eddie swoons and Richie repeats the movement. “That.  _ Being. So. Fucking. Cute. All. The. Time.” _ He punctuates each word with a cant of his hips, a little more each time. 

Beneath him, Eddie is just as caught up as he is. 

“Rich,” he gasps, blunt fingernails digging into his shoulders. They leave little marks there, Richie can feel them, but he is nowhere close to caring. Eddie is breathing his name like a prayer, whispered to beg for the favor of a god he has only recently been made aware of. Richie can't get enough. 

“Missed you,” he says, picking up the pace as Eddie urges him to. “Missed you while you were back home. Missed you before I even  _ knew _ I fucking missed you, Eddie, v’been missing you all this time.” 

“Missed you,” Eddie agrees, hands becoming more desperate on Richie's shoulders and back. His legs surround Richie until his ankles nearly cross behind him. “Knew I had to - Knew I needed you. Needed this. Want you so much, Richie, always wanted you.”

“You have me,” Richie promises, biting a mark onto Eddie's shoulder and reveling in the way he hisses and whines. “You can have me anytime. Always.” 

“Richie, Richie,  _ fuck,”  _ Eddie manages, scrambling for the sides of Richie's face to pull him close enough to kiss. It's the messiest kiss Richie has probably ever had and also the absolute best. It's teeth and tongue and murmured promises and Richie,  _ Richie, I love you,  _ and then he's groaning into Eddie's mouth and coming. 

It's enough to nearly white Richie's senses out entirely, but Eddie is clinging desperately to him, so obviously close that Richie reaches between them on instinct and wraps fingers around him and then Eddie is spilling hot across both their stomachs and chests and then Richie's strength gives out completely. 

He floats somewhere between consciousness and sleep for God knows how long, before he feels his body slowly coming back to life - and back to the real world. In this world, Eddie is wriggling out from beneath him, grumbling about something as he leaves the room, and Richie is quickly bereft of his absence. 

“You're taking so long,” he whines when Eddie doesn't return quickly enough. Richie removes the condom and tosses it unceremoniously toward his bedside wastebasket, still complaining as he does. In truth Eddie is back not a minute later, but it feels far too long without his warmth under Richie's arm. 

“I was making sure the towel was warm,” Eddie huffs, though there is no sourness in his voice. "Plus I had to find everything. I'm new here." He looks Richie's body over like it's made of porcelain as he gently wipes a warm, wet towel over his skin. Richie feels like he’s at a fucking  _ spa _ only better, because, well. Yeah. 

“Eds, you spoil me, baby.” 

Eddie's breath hitches at the pet name, but he settles back onto the bed beside Richie all the same. Richie squirms, worried that he's overstepping some kind of unknown boundary. 

“S’that okay?” he asks, words slurred, still a little drunk on the moment. “Callin’ you that, I mean? When we're not, like… Y’know?” 

Eddie throws an arm across his waist, nodding. “You can call me whatever you want at this point.” He rolls his eyes when Richie's face lights up. “How about we start with ‘roomie’? Assuming you still want me here.”

“Eddie, my love, I wanted you here before I even knew it was an actual option.” 

“Good,” Eddie says, making himself comfortable against Richie's bare chest. He traces patternless circles and shapes over the fuzz there. “I already have half a month's rent to hand over, too, so don't try that rent-free shit with me, either. I'm gonna find work and I'm gonna _pay_ to be here.” 

“So stubborn,” Richie sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Just means I'll have to use the money I save on rent to spoil your ass.” 

Eddie opens his mouth to argue but Richie pulls him up closer to kiss him instead. Against his lips he murmurs, “How about we start with air purifiers?” 

“Oh, now that does sound nice,” Eddie concedes, trying to hide the way he shudders. Richie snickers and holds him close. 

“Stick with me, Eds, and you'll have the cleanest air you've ever breathed.” 

Eddie noses against his jaw, prompting Richie to turn his face so he can be kissed for probably the thousandth time. He does so without complaint. 

“I think I'll stick with you regardless,” Eddie says between kisses, and Richie's heart soars. 

They fall asleep that way, limbs and sheets tangled and the soft sounds of Richie's favorite oldies station to drift off to. 

**Author's Note:**

> \--
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I'm [on twitter](https://twitter.com/_quartetship_) if you'd like to come chat!


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